All pictures borrowed from the Official Vinylmation blog.
Yesterday, while lounging in a tree branch, the droning sound of my tutor mixing with the crisp spring breeze, I was shocked to see a white rabbit running through the field. Now, this was no ordinary Rabbit.
He wore blue glasses that sat perched upon his nose, a red jacket with a yellow undershirt, and he had a golden pocket watch peeking out of his jacket pocket. He was obviously dressed as if he was attending some sort of special event or occasion, and as he dashed across the field, with the most worrisome look on his face, it seemed indicative that he was, as he claimed, late for whatever it was he was heading to.
Curiously, I followed him, if not only to get a better look.
He scurried into a rabbit hole, and though I knew better, I followed him until I found myself free falling down, down, down through a long, dark tunnel. I continued to fall for what seemed like hours, and was quite certain I was going to keep falling till I popped out on the other side of the world!
Nevertheless, soon enough I came to the bottom and while looking up I spotted him, the White Rabbit. He was running through a long corridor that ended in a small, locked door.
Now, I could relay to you the events that took place between this point in my story and the next; however, my tears and an uncooperative doorknob seem nothing but silly in retrospect. Needless to say, I eventually passed through the door, where I came across quite an astonishing fellow.
I was fairly sure all the dodos were extinct, but I guess I was wrong. Mr. Dodo was jovial chap who was quite friendly, if not entirely helpful. As you can tell, he continuously held a smirk, and despite being dressed as a 18th century gentleman—with his white hair pulled back into a small ponytail and tied in a blue bow—he was unable to answer my question of where the White Rabbit had gone. Frustrated, I left Mr. Dodo to search for the rabbit on my own.
I came to a wooded area, and as I did I met a pair of twin brothers who, instead of helping me, insisted on telling me riddles that were cryptic and nonsensical.
The first twin went by the name Tweedle Dee and was almost identical to his brother, who went by the name Tweedle Dum.
Both brothers wore a blue bowtie, over a long collar embroidered with their names. This of course was useful, seeing as they were each so indistinguishable from the other. As I searched for a way to tell them apart, I realize that the flags that stuck out from the top of their caps flew in the opposite direction of each other—another helpful and distinctive mark.
While I tried to tell them that I was in a bit of a hurry, they insisted upon telling me the story of the poor little oysters, which, they claimed, all became victims of their own curiosity—A warning against, I suppose, my own meddlesomeness.
The little oysters were cheerful and carefree, with big, ear-to-ear smiles—Oh yes, I realize that oysters do not have ears! They had gray shells that were offset by the purple and pink of their faces. And with the sea bubbling above their heads, these little oysters were very cute; though, I should confess, careless with whom they associated.
While I enjoyed the twins’ story very much, I was desperate to find the White Rabbit. So, I bid them farewell and continued my search.
Now, this is the point of the story where I came across the caterpillar—a hookah smoking and pretentious Lepidoptera.
The caterpillar was a beautiful shade of Aqua, and had a very long, extended neck. By far, I have to say, this caterpillar was the most interesting looking creature that I had come across. His expression was smug, and I found him a bit incorrigible; hence, I left him in a huffy.
I soon I found myself very lost, but luckily someone showed up to give me some guidance. Tired and frustrated that I still had not found my white rabbit, I sat down and began to cry. Though my heavy sobs I heard a singsong voice echo above my head. To my amazement, I watched a purple cat magically appear in a tree branch.
He was striped, with glowing yellow eyes, a wide and mischievous smile, and a long, puffy tail. And he told me that, if I wanted, I could ask the Mad Hatter or the March Hare where the White Rabbit had gone. Though, I was not excited to hear that I would have to converse with mad people, the cat grinned and told me that “We’re all mad here…”
So, I followed a path out of the woods, and quickly came across a large banquet table with at least 50 places ready and set for tea.
At the head of the table was a man in a top hat, with a card reading 10/6 sticking out of the side. I assumed so much that this was the Mad Hatter that the Cat had told me about. With buckteeth, a wide grin, and a mustard colored suit coat he was singing, very loudly, about how it was his “unbirthday”.
Sitting next to him was the March Hare. I could tell it was him because of he had long floppy ears and a cotton-white tail that stuck out of his pants. With whiskers and knitted eyebrows, he too was singing about his “unbirthday”.
Though both kept insisting that I have a cup of tea, I never once was allowed to drink any—let alone have my own cup. So I finally left them to their own maniacal behavior.
As darkness was falling around me, I once again felt despondent and lonesome, when the magical Cheshire Cat appeared once again to show me a short cut into the Royal Garden of the Queen of Hearts. After helping a deck of cards paint a bunch of white roses red, the Queen appeared before us.
She was decked out in her black, yellow, and red royal garb, with a yellow crown atop her head. Strangely enough, though being the Queen of Hearts, she was nothing but boisterous and mean—especially considering that she continued to scream, “OFF WITH THEIR HEADS,” anytime anyone did anything she disapproved of.
Feigning nicety with me, she invited me to a game of croquet, played however, with a flamingo and a sleepy hedgehog instead of a proper mallet and ball.
My hedgehog was green, sleepy with bags under its eyes. His quills unkempt along his back, he had a look of surprise as I tried to hit him with the beak of my flamingo.
It should be noted that, while my hedgehog was green, I did notice that the Queen’s was pink—an interesting variation.
The game was cut short game, however, because the Cheshire Cat had appeared upon the back of the Queen, and being his mischievous self, played a trick upon her. In all of ruckus that ensued, the Queen mistakenly blamed me for the Cat’s prank, and blaringly ordered that my head be taken off.
So instinctively I ran. I ran as fast as I could, chased by the Queen’s card soldiers.
Next thing I knew, I was flaying my arms in attempts to keep the soldiers away from me, when I awoke under the tree that I had been sitting in when I first had seen the Rabbit.
It was all a dream—One unbelievable, magical, and nonsensical dream.
As I sat there, under that tree, trying to regain composure of myself, I thought back upon those 11 figures that I had met in my dream. As my adorable kitten, Dinah, chased a butterfly around the field, I wondered, just maybe, if I could have meet Dinah in my Wonderland.
Perhaps, she could have been the 12th figure. Just how wonderful that would have been, if not only to have a friendly face in such ridiculous madness.
But as I thought about it, I was reminded of those poor little oysters, and how their curiosity ended for them…